


More Than This

by skysedge



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Guilt, Mild Gore, Stolen Moments, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27516700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysedge/pseuds/skysedge
Summary: On days like this, she seeks out Adeline.(Translation in Russian by tskardthere)
Relationships: Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower/Saint Adeline
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28
Collections: Fic In A Box





	More Than This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fayharley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayharley/gifts).



> Hello! I saw your prompt for this and having just recently played Adeline's story, I was really inspired to write a little something. I hope you enjoy!

“Lady Maria!” 

They call her name in every hall as she passes, their voices echoing back from the walls in distorted whispers and wails. 

“Please, I’ll do better, Lady Maria, _please_!” 

They reach for her as she walks, pale fingers and bruised hands groping blindly at the air, at the floor, at one another, all in search of her. 

“Make them stop, Lady Maria, make them stop...” 

They turn their heads to follow the sound of her footsteps, heavy masses of flesh that droop and fold with the motion. Sometimes she wonders how they can hear anything with their ears collapsed somewhere beneath all that skin. Sometimes she wishes they couldn’t hear at all. Not her footsteps, not the screaming, not even the ocean they’re searching for. 

Sometimes she stops to speak to each and every one of them, tells them how well they’re doing, makes them a little more comfortable in their distorted bodies. Other times she wishes it would all just _stop_. Today it’s the latter. 

On days like this she slips through the crowded halls and dirty rooms, passes like a ghost between doctors and patients alike. She feels like a ghost, stretched thin and pale, as if just a gust of wind or a warm breath could blow her away like mist in the night. Her dreams had been filled with things she would rather forget, a cacophony of sounds and sights and smells. Nails scratching on tiled floors, the ripping of sheets, the sharp stench of acid, the way brain matter pulses and oozes in the last moments. The very same things she surrounds herself with daily, by _choice,_ haunt her again every time she closes her eyes. 

She hates it. She needs it. Atonement. That’s what it is. A world of suffering of her own creation. She isn’t worthy of a peaceful existence, has long since forfeited her rights to any sort of joy, and so she must keep working, keep exposing herself to these horrors, over and over, for as long as she can bear it. 

When she had awoken this morning, her sword had been calling to her. She had left it there beside her bed, a tantalising temptation she must resist. But she needs _something_ to keep her from returning to it. 

On days like this, she seeks out Adeline. 

Maria finds her in an otherwise empty room, sat patiently in a chair in a dark corner, no doubt awaiting the return of a researcher. Adeline’s hands are folded in her lap, her feet facing forwards, her back straight. She has an air of elegance, still carries the demeanour of a perfect Saint. It’s almost ludicrous to see such poise in a woman so deformed and mutilated. Her gown is dirtied and bloodied by careless hands, her skin scarred and covered in deep purple bruises, and her head swells and grows with every passing day. 

When Maria had first stopped to have a conversation with her, she had been able to see her chin, catch a glimpse of her lower lip when she spoke in that sweet, girlish voice. There’s nothing left of that now, no remnant of a face, nothing to show that this was once a young woman, as unique as every soul sent to this damnable place. Maria tries to picture her now as she must have been once, girlish and patient, meek and obedient, waiting in such a hideous place with a smile on her face. 

Maria clenches one gloved hand into a fist. It’s the soft squeak of leather that gives her away. 

“Lady Maria?” Adeline asks in a voice as pure as a spring breeze. “Is that you?” 

Maria shuts the door behind her and turns the key. She won’t stay long, she never does, but these are moments she doesn’t intend to share with anyone. 

“Yes,” she says, stepping closer. “How are you feeling? I’ve told them not to leave you waiting so long between procedures.” 

“It’s not a bother,” Adeline insists, turning her engorged head in Maria’s direction. “If this is necessary for my treatment then I don’t mind at all.” 

On the steel table beside Adeline’s chair, the researcher has left assorted implements, all of them dripping with blood, a steady sound in the otherwise silent room. The remaining vials are empty, no doubt whoever had been working here had filled as many as they could carry and hurried away with them. The product is more valuable than the producer. When so many patients fail their treatment, it’s easy to treat them like livestock, expendable, no one worth any more than another. There are two fresh catheters in the back of Adeline’s hand, one for the extraction of blood as per her treatment and no doubt one for a greedy researcher to keep for themselves. Maria knows such practices go on. She can’t be everywhere at all times. It’s just another way she’s failed them all. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

She’s been silent too long and this is the one person she doesn’t wish to ignore. She runs her fingers along the abandoned scalpel and to the edge of the table, stepping closer to Adeline’s chair and circling around to stand behind her. 

“No,” Maria assures her. “I’m just concerned that you’re uncomfortable. That’s all.” 

“That doesn’t matter.” 

Adeline’s answer is quick and cheerful. There’s no guile in her whatsoever. She has a heart that’s pure, that burns with longing for success but doesn’t quite believe she deserves it. Perhaps it’s a feeling that Maria understands. She doesn’t care to remember. 

“It does matter, Adeline,” she insists softly, placing her hands on the back of Adeline’s chair and running them downwards to ghost across the woman’s shoulders. “ _You_ matter.” 

“I want to,” Adeline says, unflinching at the touch, trusting as always. “I want to be useful.” 

“You are.” 

“More than this,” Adeline insists firmly before lowering her tone to a soft, pleading murmur. “I want to be more than this.” 

Of course she does. They all do. All the patients long for the one thing they’ve been groomed for. They obsess over it, elevate the ideals of it even as their bodies are battered and changed beyond recognition. Maria doesn’t know if she wants the experiments to succeed or not. Seeing people, good people like Adeline, become monsters like this turns her stomach. 

She keeps these thoughts inside. The one benefit of Adeline’s head having enlarged so much is that she can’t see that the smile in Maria’s voice doesn’t reach her eyes. 

“You will be,” Maria promises. “I know you can do it.” 

Adeline’s whole body trembles at that, with joy or fear or surprise Maria is never sure. Adeline unclasps her hands and raises one blindly, spindly fingers reaching out. 

“Do you really think so?” she whispers. 

Maria takes Adeline’s hand between her own and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“I do.” 

They stay like this for a time in silence. Dust spirals in the air around them, dancing in the shaft of yellow light that creeps in through the dirty windowpane. Adeline deserves more than a room like this. Maria would take her to the Clocktower if she was able to see the beauty of the mechanisms, would teach her about the stars. She almost laughs at the thought. How ridiculous. Dreaming is a pointless self-indulgence. She won’t waste time on it. 

She wonders what Adeline dreams of, if she manages to sleep. She hopes it’s something other than the ocean. 

After a time, Adeline slips her hand free to fold it in her lap once again. 

“Tell me, Lady Maria,” she says gently. “Is it a very beautiful day?” 

Maria turns back to the window. It’s set high into the wall, the glass smeared with grime, and metal bars are set into the stone in front of it. It’s raining outside, the soft patter of water echoing on the glass, but she knows Adeline can’t hear it. Even if it had been a beautiful day outside, no one in here would be able to tell. 

She doesn’t know how to answer. There are only so many lies she can speak in one conversation. Adeline mistakes her silence for awkwardness and continues and her voice is too kind to be heard somewhere like this. 

“I hope I’m not speaking out of turn by saying this, but when you stand close to me I can smell flowers and sunlight, like the most wonderful summer afternoon.” 

Maria’s breath catches in her throat. She takes a step away from the chair, one hand lingering on the backrest. It’s as if Adeline has reached out and plucked the words from Maria’s own breast. She presses a hand above her heart, unable to speak. When she doesn’t answer, Adeline continues. 

“I don’t miss it,” she says happily. “Summer, I mean. Or flowers, or sunlight, or afternoons. I’m so happy to be here, to be part of something important. This is my dream come true.” 

It really is. That’s the most painful part of all. 

“I’m sorry for saying something strange,” Adeline continues, not disheartened by Maria’s silence. “It’s just that when you’re here it makes me think of silly things like that. That’s how you feel to me, Lady Maria. I suppose I don’t need anything else.” 

Maria isn’t going to cry. No, only good people have the right to weep. She looks between the window and Adeline, at the pulsing mass of flesh she has become. Such a hideous thing, all shades of grey and crimson, like everything else in this place. Strange how just being near her makes Maria think of warmth, of forgiveness, of silly things like innocence too. 

She walks back to the door and pauses with her fingers resting on the handle. 

“Adeline,” she says softly. 

“Yes?” 

“It’s a beautiful day.” 

She has no way of showing it but Maria is certain that Adeline is smiling. She holds on to the imaginary beauty of that smile and heads back out into the nightmare. On her way back to the clocktower she stops to talk to every patient that calls her name. 

It’s not a lot but it’s something. She can’t give anything more. 

  



End file.
